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Zsil
Zsil is a Vishkanya Mesmerist on a quest for knowledge. He seeks the secrets of civilization so that he might be able to restore his own people to their former glory. Suave and cunning, Zsil makes use of venom to weaken his foe's bodies and his own psychic enchantments to dominate their minds. 'Early Life' Zsil (a shortened version of his given name used for the benefit of those who do not speak Aklo), hatched into some renown. With six eye spots on his hood and another on his forehead, he was declared the scion of Ydersius and foisted into the upper echelons of society. Unfortunately, growing up Zsil often found himself going against the grain. He questioned archaic practices and rituals, and his favor diminished fast. If it were not for the circumstance of his birth, he may have already ended up dead by an assassin’s blade. 'The Schism' “I don’t understand why you can’t see this! Have you looked outside? Our city is in ruins. We can barely even hold back the jungle’s advance, yet you all idle here. What has changed in the last generation? Or the one before that? “We are dying. We all know it, yet instead of finding another way to move forward we sit here and bash our heads against the wall, doing the same things that have proven ineffective for generations. “They are building kingdoms out there, beyond the jungles edge while we rot here. So what if they’ve stolen from us, they know something we don’t. “Ydersius is dead. All attempts to revive them have failed. Our golden age is done. How many have to starve, to be taken by infighting and disease for you to see we need a new route forward? “I’ve decided that I’m leaving. I’ll find what we’re lacking here, and I’ll return. If mingling with animals is distasteful to you, just think of it as a brazen spying mission. For all my life, I was told I was Ydersius’s favored, that I will lead us out of the dark ages, yet any change I have suggested has not been heeded. So I’m leaving. If you really believed I’m the chosen of a dead god, just hear me out when I return. Goodbye.” After a particularly heated debate with the leaders of his city, he announced his plan to leave Serpent’s Jungle and followed through before he could be stopped, taking only what supplies he could carry. Elves, Dwarves, and especially humans were dangerous animals, he been raised to believe. After a brush with bandits on his way to the nearest town, he’d be inclined to agree. Fortunately, their minds were simple and unprepared for the Mesmer’s mental assault. Zsil was soon coiled around their minds, and the thugs were all to happy to take him back to their hideout, feed him, shelter him and tell him all that they knew about the surrounding area. If he had been more prepared, they would still be attending him as his faithful pet, though he supposed it wouldn’t look too good to come into a human town like that. 'The Pseudodragon' Some time has passed since Zsil has first begun his travels through civilized lands. Since he came here, he had been paid to clear out a goblin camp and fight against waves of monsters in the arena. A few of the people he’s met stick out in his mind for the worst reasons, but he assures himself that most of the mammals he’s met have been polite to him, even if they did have a tendency to stare. The serpent like humanoid currently found himself on the road between towns. While portals existed to most important, Zsil found himself slithering if he had the time. After all, who knew what secrets of civilization lay outside the major cities? It was on this lonesome road that Zsil first felt something brush against his mind. It was a familiar sensation, on he has not experienced since he left his homeland, telepathic communication. Yet, the voice was faint and incomprehensible. The distance between the Vishkanya and the sender was too great, yet Zsil could not just ignore it. The trip became a desperate search as Zsil traveled towards where the voice was clearest, and once it began to fade again he’d turn and try a new direction. No one in a normal circumstance would just blast telepathic speech out after all, whoever was doing this was in some degree of peril. The trees around him began to grow thick with spider silk when the mesmer feared he was getting close. Through the brush he pushed, the voice now quite clear. The child-like voice was fearful, crying out for anyone who might of heard him for help. Keeping low, Zsil crept further until he came upon the scene. Ensnared within the webs of a giant spider was a small dragon like creature, the size of a house cat with black horns and ruby scales. As it cried, it struggled to jab its barbed tail into the man sized spider wrapping it in a cocoon of webs. Zsil centered his mind and calmed his emotions instinctively, beginning to call upon his psychic magic. Just as the arachnid was finishing the dragon’s bindings, a flood of chemicals was released from its brain, sending it quickly into a deep sleep. From the brush Zsil emerged, stopping only to execute the vulnerable spider before cutting the dragon free. The little thing, though tired from fighting, was safe and quite glad to be alive. Before more spiders could appear, Zsil took the dragon back to the road and with him to the next town, so that he could receive a check up from the local healers. After spending some gold to ensure the dragon was uninjured, Zsil was pleasantly surprised to find that the dragon wished to accompany him as a traveling companion, at least for a while.